Don't google Alex Rider
by beth007
Summary: I didn’t think anything about it really, I was just curious – but it seems googling the name Jasper Lowe creates a bit of attention, as I was about to find out - but whats this Alex Ridr kid got to do with anything?
1. Chapter 1

Hey there this is my first crack at an Alex Rider fanfic so please be nice – I'll love you forever if you review it xoxoxoxoxox no copyright infringement intended. Hope you enjoy!!!

So my name's Darcy Lowe, I live in the Jungle in Congo with my war veteran Grandfather and my buddy Jake. I'm not normal but I don't give a damn.

The thing is growing up in the dense foliage left me curious about lots of things. What's the rest of the world like? Who is my father? What did he do to piss of grandad (his dad)? And why did my mum leave me here when I was just a year old?

So I did a little digging, and I'm sure if you were in my position you would have too. Yeah, so I googled a whole lot of stuff – didn't come up with many answers. I didn't think anything about it really, I was just curious – but it seems googling the name Jasper Lowe creates a bit of attention, as I was about to find out……….

So I've lived here basically all my life, ever since I was one. Don't ask why my grandad lives in the jungle; he won't give you a straight answer. When I twelve he told me he liked the peace and quiet – I asked again him a few months ago and this time he told me it was to avoid tax collectors. Like I said – don't bother unless you like being told bullshit.

My friend Jake lives with his grandparents too, they're British. But they live on a farm just on the edge of the jungle. Like mine, his grandad is a war veteran too –they're old buddies. Jake, unlike me, knows exactly why my he lives with his grandparents. Both his parents died in a train crash in Italy when he was ten, and Judy and Tony Broc were his only other relatives.

As far as I know my mum and dad a both still alive. I used to see Mum now and again – a few times a year perhaps. But as I've gotten older her visits have become less and less frequent. Nice lady my mum, can't tell you much about her though – I don't know her that well myself.

But my dad – there's a whole new can of worms. Mention his name in front of either grandad or mum and its like room freezes over. Awkward. So I figure he's done something really bad – maybe he's a criminal or something.

When Jake and I were a bit younger we used to think up our own theories. Like maybe Jasper Lowe was superhero or maybe my mum and dad were both secret agents.

Well that was a long time ago now. I'd long come to the conclusion that there wasn't anything special about my family really at all. Turns out, I was pretty wrong about that.

The first thing you have to know about my granddads house is that its less of a cottage and more of a tree house than anything. Like a hurricane had picked up the bamboo building and wedged it in between the limbs of a massive tree years and years ago.

The backyard was a hundred thousand square miles of jungle – the front yards was four acres of jungle which backed onto the Broc's farm.

I've got to say my favourite bit about the house is the front porch. They don't come better than ten square meters of bamboo platform suspended 15m above the ground.

I was sitting on it that day, with my legs dangling over the edge while Jake lounged in a hammock. Remember I said googling Jasper Lowe's name didn't achieve anything – WRONG!

Apparently it put me, on someone's radar. And that someone- judging by the roaring of engines - really wanted to talk to me. It was then something unexpected happened. Grandad burst out of the front door wearing aviator sunglasses and carrying a double barrel shotgun. That was a bit of a shock.

"Darcy! Get off you're ass kid!" his Texas accent was strong as ever "You too Jake, c'mon"

We did as we were told. I nearly fell on my butt as grandad threw something heavy at my chest. I looked down, it was a back pack.

"It's got food, water and jackets" barked grandad "now you" he pointed at Jake "take her" he jabbed a finger at me "and run as fast as you can – that way" his thumb pointing over his shoulder, in the direction of the heart of the jungle.

"Grandad, what's going on?'

"Nothing"

I glared

"We can help" Jake said determinedly

"You wanna help boy?" grandad said pulling down his glasses a little so we could see his eyes, Jake nodded eagerly

"Come here then" Jake did as he was told and followed grandad over to the platforms ledge, he handed Jake a tree vine "holding on tight?" Jake nodded again,

"Good" Grandad pushed him over the ledge, he turned to me. I slung the backpack quickly onto my shoulders. "I'm going" I said holding my hands up.

I went to the ledge and slid my way down the vine onto the jungle floor. That right you were expecting me to say I swung to the next tree weren't you? Ha! Who do you think I am – Tarzan?

We didn't stop after that, didn't look back and we didn't speak – we just ran. I something was dangerous enough for my grandad to get out his shotgun and aviators than it was probably best to be running in the opposite direction. As for grandad? He was a war veteran – ex POW and one scary son of bitch when annoyed, he could look after himself.

I wasn't so sure about us. We had been running for nearly half an hour when Jake tripped, his foot getting caught on a tree root. I helped his up then listened for a moment

"I can't hear anything, you?"

He shook his head

"Maybe we should stop here for a bit"

Jake nodded vigorously, taking the backpack from me and immediately taking out a drink bottle, slumping down on a log to rest.

I looked around again, the trees were much too thick at ground level to see how far we'd come or if indeed anyone was following us.

"I'm gonna climb up" I said pointing at a large tree "see if there is anyone behind us"

It didn't take me long to climb the tree. But I did forget something; I really should have brought Jake with me. Sliding myself securely into a 'v' between two branches. After making sure I was secure I looked around me – and came face to face with a blond haired, brown eyed dude. I nearly fell out of the tree in shock. But instead I fell asleep when the guy stabbed me with a hypodermic needle.

Remind me to punch him for that later.


	2. no, i don't regret punching you

Hey hey hey, here's chapter 2 – thnx so much to the noted musician for the review – pretty please review, it'll make my day!!!!!!!!!! Once again no copyright infringements intended.

_After making sure I was secure I looked around me – and came face to face with a blond haired, brown eyed dude. I nearly fell out of the tree in shock. But instead I fell asleep when the guy stabbed me with a hypodermic needle._

When I woke up, the first thing I realised, and it was easy to tell, was that I wasn't in Congo anymore. The cell was stark white, the door must have been electrically operated because there was no handle or lock. But, as far a cells go, I guess this one would be considered roomy. Not that I'd know – it's not like a make a habit of GETTING MYSELF KIDNAPPED!

On the upside though, there was a window. I had to jump to grab onto the sill and then do a retarded chin-up so I could look out of it. Outside it was grey, and raining. There were no landmarks, I seemed to be situated in some sort of warehouse city. Row after row of plain grey metal and concrete sheds was all that surrounded me. To make it worse when I dropped down from the window I landed smack on but! And it hurt! A lot! That's it! – This cell is getting downgraded, no view and an unnaturally hard floor.

Grey sky, raining – that was all the information I needed to figure out where I was. My Mum was British and when she told me about England she said the first thing you need to know is never forget your umbrella. Because it rains. All. Of. The. Time.

Great! A warehouse in England. And that punk who knocked me out didn't even have the decency to show his face – so I could introduce it to my fist of course. Oh, that smarmy-ass pretty boy was going to get it big time!

So I sunk down onto the floor to wait for blondie to show. Why wa si sitting on the floor. Yeah that's right, they didn't give me any furniture! I've got to say my kidnap-ee satisfaction rate is pretty bloody low right now.

And you know what the worst of it is? He left a bruise! All he had to do was push the needle in, not butcher my entire limb!

It took him about an hour. By then I guessed from looking out the window that it was about nine or ten o'clock in the morning. I could hear the sounds of the locks in the door retracting well before it 'whooshed' open.

I had my plan worked out too. He he he he…….

He stepped inside the cell, and for the first time I realised that he must have only been around my age, fourteen of fifteen.

I gasped - loudly. His face tightened.

"Are you hurt?"

I shook my head, making sure to stare intently into his eyes.

"What is it then?"

Making my eyes as big as I could "come here" I said just softly enough so that I could be sure he heard me.

"Why?" – Yeah that's right, I thought, you should be wary buddy.

"Because I know you" He stood rooted to the spot. So I got up and walked slowly over to him, I noticed his body tense as I did so, I raised my hand and softly brushed a strand of blond hair out of his brown eyes – then……

WHAM!!!!!!!!!!!!!

One thing I must remember about this kid is – he bounces back quick. I'm telling you, he was back on his feet in like less than a second. And I have a mean right hook.

He's stronger than he looks too. As I found out when he pinned my arms behind my back – you know in that one position where it feels like your arms are going to be ripped off, and you know if you really wanted to get out you could but it would mean dislocating your shoulders.

"What was that for!" he demanded

"Oh, gee I wonder captain dipshit"

"You know you're being rather rude"

"What, I'd didn't stab anyone with a needle then kidnap them – somehow I think you take the cake their sunshine"

"you know what, you're right"

"I usually am"

"I'm rude, and the only substitute for good manners is fast reflexes" he pushed my arms up a little, my shoulders felt like they were going to pop out any second "and I seem to have the jump on you"

"Now that could be misinterpreted"

"will you just shut up?"

"Yes, if you let my arms go I'll walk right out of here I I'll promise never to talk to you again – deal?"

He let me go and I shoved away from him careful to make sure I elbowed him in the ribs as I did so.

"There we go, that's step one - now open the door"

Blondie rubbed his eyes. Good, I thought, I'm glad you're pissed.

"I just got off the phone" he said looking at me again "they want me to fill you in …… on the basics"

"Wait off the phone with who? Who's they?"

"The bank" he replied simply "the truth of it is Darcy, things will be a whole lot easier if you just cooperate with them"

"Computer says no" (he he little Britain quote there for all you deprived people who don't get it)

"YOUR MOTHER IS MISSING! OkAY!"

Well not many things shut me up – but that… that did it. I sucked in a breath "no that's not really okay at all"

"I got sent in to pull you out of the jungle and bring you here –so we could keep you safe"

"Who's we"

"The bank"

"What bank?"

"I can't tell you that"

I exhaled heavily "you know you're cruising for another bruising"

"I have more hypodermics out the back" He pointed and shifted to the door like he was going to get some.

"Well hady-frikin-ha aren't we a comedian"

"I thought you were" he said with a smirk

"No" I replied "I just a very annoying smart-ass"

"you have no idea how many times I've been told that" he muttered

"Aww that's right honey, always remember you're unique – just like everyone else!" I said in my most annoying high-pitched-mummy voice.

"You don't get it do you? You really have no idea at all"

"The fact that no one understands you doesn't mean you're an artist – and right now I'm not following"

"ahhh" he slapped a hand to his forehead, and I suppressed a giggle "I mean your not like other kids"

"Yeah I know – I grew up in the jungle" He rolled his eyes.

"what do your parents do for a living?" That one stumped me. Partly because it hit a bit of a nerve and partly because I just couldn't think of anything to say without making myself sound stupid.

Then…. "Oh, so I don't even know your name and you want me to tell you about my parents, fat chance mate"

We both head the bang of a door opening in the corridor outside my cell and the steady click-click-click of several people walking.

He sighed and looked at me with something like pity in his eyes, like he knew what I was in for "just remember it'll be easier if you just cooperate with them"

"speaking form experience huh?"

"you could say that"

"What's your name?"

"Alex Rider"

I could hear the people just outside the door, the sounds of the electronic locks retreating.

"I don't like you very much Alex Rider"

"It's mutual"

"I'm glad we agree"


	3. the robots

DGAR

They introduced themselves as Alan Blunt and Mrs. Jones and I immediately disliked them both. They said that they were glad to finally meet me, but I got the feeling they weren't. The bank CEO and his deputy seemed unemotional at best – personally, from that moment on, I thought of them as robots. Calculated, cold and ugly. Not trying to be mean or anything with the 'ugly' bit, I mean I know I'm not a supermodel, but the dude especially had a face only a, very tolerant, mother could love.

The woman talked, very quickly, about my mother. How she had disappeared in Zurich without a trace. No one had seen or heard from Caroline Shepherd (Shepherd is my mums maiden name) for 6 days.

Suddenly I was struck by how odd it was for this Royal and General bank to be so interested. I interrupted Mrs. Jones mid sentence,

"You know, I don't really see how any of this is your business"

Alan Blunt raised an eyebrow at me looking down his nose, so I mimicked his snooty expression right back, making him glare. "I think" he said sharply "you will find this matter is very much our business"

"How? You're just bank managers – I hate to break it to you but if my mother owes you money kidnapping me is not going to help"

"Oh really?" Blunt asked _raising both eyebrows now_.

"Yes really – I don't say things just because I like the sound of my own voice Blunt" I smiled falsely at him. I was being rude, antagonistic and smart – I didn't feel bad about it though seeing as _they _kidnapped _me_. Honestly I thought the robots deserved a little lip. People just cant go kidnapping people and _then expect _them to be all polite.

Alan Blunt and Jones went silent for a while – watching me closely. It gave me the creeps – it would give anyone the creeps – being stared at like that by two massive creeps.

Blunt broke the silence "what if I told you that we didn't work for a bank?"

I raised my eyebrows at him "well, I would say whoopi-do-da-day for you"

Mrs. Jones let out a breath "what if we said, we aren't bank managers but your mother was one of our most senior employees"

"Would it kill you to just say something straight for once – kick the cryptic bullshit?"

Alan Blunt spoke up then "We are the heads of MI6"

"Yeah right"

"Your mother was one of our top agents" Mrs Jones said

"What do you mean 'was'" I snapped "stop talking like my mums dead"

Alan Blunt raised his stupid grey eyebrows _for the millionth time_ "Miss Lowe – past tense is justified here, its something of a company policy" he snuffed a laugh – my fists clenched-" to assume that, after more than 3 days without contact, any non-responsive agents are dead"

That did it; I swear if this was a cartoon there would be smoke coming out of my ears about now. For some odd reason though, just as I was about to go troppo on the robots, a memory popped into my head. From when Jake and I were little kids – how we used to imagine that my mum and dad were really secret agents. It looked, incredibly, like we hadn't been far off the mark.

"If my mother is _presumed dead_ why am I here? If you've already copped out on her, what help am I going to be? "

Mrs Jones took a moment before answering, as though she was weighing every word in her head before she spoke it "You're mother is presumed dead, but it hasn't been confirmed – you are here because we want to keep you safe-"

"more like out of the road" I scoffed

"We also believe" Alan Blunt said "that you may be an asset to our agency"

"What like blondie?" I couldn't believe what I'd heard.

"Perhaps"

"Perhaps my ass- two words ladies – get stuffed" I stepped towards them "now if you don't mind I'd like to leave now"

"That's not advisable" Blunt said

"Why, I want to go home"

Mrs Jones and Blunt shared a triumphant look "If you care about your friend Jake Broc, I wouldn't try and escape"

Anger coursed through me as I stepped backwards "what have you done to him" I demanded in a dangerously low voice.

"Nothing yet" Mrs Jones replied "now If you will excuse us, we have places to be"

"And other peoples lives to ruin" I said under my breath

They were just about to walk out the door when a thought struck me "wait!" they paused in the door way "last week I googled the name Jasper Lowe, is that how you found me?"

Jones and Blunt shared another of their stupid 'secret' looks before replying "as far as we can tell, your father has nothing to do with this matter". They turned on their heels and left without another word.

I kicked the wall in anger, nearly breaking my toe, then trying to yell above the sound of the door locking I called "HEY! That doesn't answer my question!"

Nobody answered.


End file.
